


Emergency

by Severina



Series: Alphabet Soup [5]
Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4294164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I get a call," John said, "forwarded to me through central while I'm on a fuckin' <i>stakeout</i>, telling me that my 'domestic partner' just got rushed to the goddam hospital, and I show up to find you eating Jello and watching <i>cartoons</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "E" prompt at LJ's 1_million_words A to Z challenge.
> 
> * * *

Matt didn't like hospitals. He hated the bleach-urine smell, and the faded yellow walls, and the boxes of sterile gloves that always popped up at odd places, like wedged between the wall and the railing in the hallway. Always those damn gloves. Creepy.

But if he _did_ have to be admitted – just for the night, just for observation, the Ken Doll impersonator in pale blue scrubs assured him with a flash of pearly-whites – then Matt was at least glad that he was able to do it on John's insurance tab. Cushy private room. Free television. Only four channels, but beggars can't be choosers.

Not that he had any say in the matter, since he'd been in and out of consciousness for the last few hours. But he'd been aware enough to realize that Nurse Bright Teeth was definitely flirting with him – like he had a shot – and since he woke up from his last "nap" he'd been pretty much back to normal. He had even considered ringing for the nurse and insisting that they let him leave, but then the food had arrived and he _was_ pretty hungry. So. Free food first, then raise a stink and get the hell out. 

And call John, who'd probably be wondering why his D&D meeting had run so late. 

He was halfway through his Jello when the door slammed open. Matt jerked, his spoon clattering onto the tray, and made a hasty grab for the mute button on the remote. Sylvester cut off in mid succotash.

Apparently he wasn't going to have to make that phone call to John after all.

John looked… well, he looked a mess. Eyes wild, lips pressed together in a terse line, shirt sweat-soaked. It was hot, actually. Definitely the kind of look that could inspire some clandestine hospital bathroom action, were it not for the steam that immediately started spewing from John's ears when his eyes finally focused on the bed. And Matt, lounging like he was on the beach in Monte Carlo. 

"You're fine," John said.

It wasn't exactly a question, but Matt pondered how to answer it anyway. 'Fine', after all, was a relative term. Compared to the poor fuckers getting radiation therapy on the third floor, he was right as rain. But it wasn't like he just decided to admit himself to the hospital because he enjoyed their beef stroganoff and the ambiance of the fluorescent lighting. He finally opened his mouth and hoped that something slightly less sarcastic might emerge – hope springs eternal, and all that – but John cut him off with a look.

"I get a call," John said, "forwarded to me through central while I'm on a fuckin' _stakeout_ , telling me that my 'domestic partner' just got rushed to the goddam hospital, and I show up to find you eating Jello and watching _cartoons_?"

"The only other option was 'All My Misfortunes ', and after Destiny left Brick for Calliope I just couldn't handle that for another minute," Matt said. Apparently 'less sarcastic' was not on the menu after all. He nodded solemnly. "Brick deserves better."

"Smart ass," John muttered. He stopped hovering in the doorway like a Hollywood bodyguard and stepped into the room, swiping a hand over his freshly shorn head. Which was also dabbed with beads of sweat – what the hell did John do, _run_ from the stakeout? – and seriously all kinds of hot and Matt really wanted to leap out of bed and lick it, starting from that little bead of sweat perched just above John's right eyebrow and then slowly working his way back, taking his time, feeling John shiver as he traced the scar on John's scalp with his tongue before moving down and sucking John's earlobe into his mouth. Yeah, leaping would be good. Licking would be good. If only he wasn't still attached to the damn blood pressure monitor. 

"What the fuck did you do?"

Matt blinked back to reality, in which John McClane was still hot and yup, still steaming mad.

"Do? It wasn't my fault!" he protested. "All I did, okay, was grab a bag of toasted almonds from the dude at the park. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and my tongue was the size of Kim Kardashian's ass." At John's puzzled look, he waved a hand. "That's big, McClane. Turns out I've developed a latent peanut allergy. Who knew?"

"Jesus Christ, is there anything you're not allergic to?" John held up a hand, counting off on his fingers. "Bananas, quorn – whatever the fuck that is – shellfish, oranges —"

"Also chocolate, coconut, and yellow dye number five," Matt said. "Do you know I've never had a twinkie? It's a tragedy."

John made a noise that could only be described as a growl – and honestly, if he didn't stop doing shit like that Matt was _not_ going to be responsible for any bruises and contusions John suffered when he tackled him to the floor and had his way with him – and closed the distance between the door and the bed in two long strides. The sound that came out of Matt's mouth could have been called a yelp, a whimper, or a squeak when John's big paw wrapped around the back of his neck and tugged him up, close enough that their foreheads touched. Matt didn't think any of those words were dignified enough, but when John McClane was around he wasn't always quite in control of his bodily functions. Yelp would have to do.

"You ever do something this stupid again, I will kill you myself," John gritted out.

"You're such a romantic, McClane," Matt said. "But I didn't do this on purpose, you know. It's not like I _knew_ I was allergic to nuts."

John closed his eyes, muttering to himself, and though his lips were only inches from Matt's ear Matt only managed to catch a few mumbled words and phrases like 'ridiculous' and 'motherfucker' and 'drive a man to drink'.

Matt reached up to stroke a hand against John's cheek. "I love you too, John."

Three minutes later, when Nurse Perfect Hair came running in to find out why Matt's blood pressure monitor was going haywire, they came to the mutual decision to check Matt out of the hospital early after all. 

John was going to have a hell of a bruise from the bed rail.


End file.
